Green Christmas
by Sue Penkivech
Summary: The mistletoe tree from XMen 165 makes another appearance. Will it work its magic again? BobbyLorna


Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did, X-Men #179 would've never happened. But since it did...

Merry Christmas, Jen!

**Green Christmas**

Casting one last wave at his snow-covered advisees, Bobby made his way through the Institute's front door, letting out a burst of laughter as one last, lonely snowball plastered him in the back of the head just as he was beginning to de-ice. Brats. Every last one of them. Damn, but sometimes he missed being sixteen.

Of course, some would argue he still acted sixteen. But at least they couldn't dispute the fact he got along far better with the kids at the Institute than most.

What kids there were left, anyway, since whatever had happened, happened.

Reaching back to wipe the snow from the back of his head (and sticking his tongue out one last time at the kids before slamming the door against the volley of snowballs that followed), he shook his head. A lot had changed since what they were terming M-Day, not all of it for the better. While he understood Emma's logic in sending them home, it didn't mean he necessarily agreed with it. Or that he didn't miss them.

Or the other person Emma had all but sent away, for that matter.

Sighing, he felt his shoulders slump as he trekked through the kitchen and down the hallway, barely glancing into the common room where Kitty, and Rachel were attempting to string popcorn onto a thread, and apparently coming up short due to Hank's "assistance". Normally, he would've popped in and joined them – after all, there was popcorn there - but at the moment, he just wasn't in the mood.

"There ya are," a familiar voice called out, and he turned to see Rogue coming down the stairs. "The kids are badgering me to death about when you're gonna get the damn mistletoe tree up – seems it was a huge hit last year," Rogue said, and he saw her roll her eyes. Yeah, not real likely Rogue was going to have much more use for a mistletoe tree than he was, this year.

"I'll get on it," he replied with a half-hearted smile, one she returned with a sympathetic one as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Ya want some help? Ah'm not doing nothin' – the Christmas tree's all setup."

"Nah, I've got it." Forcing a grin, he said with an attempt at his usual humor, "Wouldn't want you to start the tree on fire or anything."

"Watch it, or you'll be the one getting set on fire," she countered, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Catch ya at the holiday shindig later?"

"It's a date," he assured her, squeezing her arm as he moved past her to the classroom where they were storing the Christmas decorations.

The mistletoe tree. An old custom at the Institute, really, though most didn't remember it had been originated by Warren. Long before nearly everyone here had even heard of the X-Men, he'd fastened a single sprig of mistletoe to the tree out in the back, in an attempt to catch Jean underneath. It had backfired; Warren had been called inside to the phone, and Jean had ended up giving Hank a completely platonic kiss beneath the tree. But with a ton of new students, he'd thought it would be fun to revive it last year.

And it had been, once again in a totally unexpected manner.

His lips curved into a smile as he remembered the first kiss underneath the tree. He'd assumed it would've been a couple of the kids. Instead, he'd been the victim of a "kiss and run," courtesy of a certain green-haired teammate.

He picked up a sprig of the mistletoe and turned it over and over in his hand before letting his eyes drift shut, remembering how he'd caught up with her, after. She was sorry, she'd said – sorry about a lot of things, not the least of which was the mistake she'd made all those years before. Everything he'd waited so long to hear; and him stuck in a form that limited the extent of any relationship they could realistically have.

He hadn't cared, for just that moment. And neither had she.

Shaking his head and letting out a snort at his own stupidity, he bundled the mistletoe into a bag and set out to find a new tree, not even bothering to ice up first. It wasn't as if he'd get cold, anyway.

The students, still engrossed in their snowball fight, waved and catcalled at him, attempting to get him to join back in, but his enthusiasm was at an all time low. He was going to go and get this overwith. Maybe once it was done, he'd be able to push the images of his very own, green haired Christmas elf out of his head.

God, but she'd hated when he'd called her that, he remembered with a sad smile. Or professed to, anyway. He still doubted, given the way her face had colored with more than the cold, that she'd hated it quite as much as she'd insisted.

He'd apologized, anyway. For that, and a whole lot of other things. And then gone and made the same mistakes all over again.

He paused when he reached last year's mistletoe tree, and sighed. He might as well just use the same one again this year; the kids would know where to find it. Besides, it seemed almost appropriate, especially considering he could still see a scrap of red ribbon stuck on a branch from the previous year.

The faint sound of Christmas music carried toward him as the wind changed, and he chuckled dryly and began singing along. Somehow, Barenaked Ladies always seemed to understand.

"Green, cause of everything I miss  
All this mistletoe, no kiss  
And with every Christmas wish  
There would be no greater gift  
Than to have this envy lift."

"What envy?" a familiar, low, female voice asked from behind him as he tied the first of the sprigs onto a branch, and his hands stilled.

"Oh, just the usual," he replied calmly after a moment, ignoring the way his heartbeat had practically doubled. "You know, the whole "She ran off with another guy, again," thing. Nothing new." And honestly, he should've known better, last time. Unfortunately, logic had never seemed to prevail when Lorna was around.

She sighed, and he felt a warm hand, bereft of its glove, stroke his shoulder.

"Would it make any difference if I said I was sorry again?" she asked hopefully, and despite all resolutions to the contrary, a crooked smile formed on his face.

"Depends," he replied, turning to look at her. Apparently, she'd lost the spandex along with her powers, as she was dressed in a purple ski jacket, her hair spilling out from beneath a pair of matching ear muffs. "Where's Alex?"

Lorna grimaced and shook her head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I told him to get lost a month ago, when I finally wrapped my head around losing my powers and realized that at least this time, I hadn't lost _me_. Apparently, he went and got lost." She smiled crookedly and cocked her head at him, then shrugged. "I got un-lost and came home. Emma can deal with it. Like you said, powers don't make the X-Man. Or X-Woman," she added somewhat mischievously. "This is the twenty-first century, after all. Maybe it's time they rename the damn team."

"Yeah, but who knows what Cyke'd come up with," he disputed, stalling for time as he considered the implications of what she was saying. Alex was gone, granted. It didn't change the fact that Lorna'd gone off with him to begin with.

Except…she hadn't, not really. She'd gone, and Alex had followed.

It should've been him who'd followed, instead. Nothing he could say about not having had an opportunity, or being afraid he'd hurt her again, or anything else, could change that one simple fact. He should've gone with her.

Lorna sighed again and dropped her hand from his shoulder. "Look, I understand if you'd rather I go. I just wanted to apologize and wish you Merry Christmas." She turned and began to walk off, but before she could take more than a few steps he reached out and grabbed hold of her hand.

"You forgot something," he said softly.

Lorna turned back to look at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "What?"

Bobby said nothing, just pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her back as he leaned in and kissed her. Once more, the mistletoe tree had apparently picked the least likely couple on Earth. And once again, he wasn't complaining.


End file.
